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Originally posted: August 20, 2005

Link: My LJ

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"Mmmm," Ginny mumbled into Harry's mouth. Her firewhiskey buzz was just perfect, at that point where she was relaxed and uninhibited, but not out of control.

Harry leaned back against the cool stone wall of the corridor, letting her plunder his mouth with less resistance than usual. Ginny swirled her tongue around his, then captured it with her lips and sucked it. Harry moaned, and Ginny barely managed to refrain from grinning against his lips in triumph.

She'd been surprised by his inexperience. He was easily the most shaggable boy at Hogwarts, and not only was he a virgin, he'd barely done more than kiss.

Even now as Ginny pressed her breasts into his chest, he shrank away, apprehensive. So innocent. So sweet.

It just made her want to corrupt him all the more.

His hands were hanging limply by his sides, so she took one and placed it on her hip, continuing to suck his tongue rhythmically. One minute later, the hand was still where she'd put it. A simple invitation had always worked before -- Michael Corner's hands had been up her shirt within seconds when she'd done that to him, but Harry's just remained stiffly where she'd put them, as if he were uncertain what to do.

After nearly a minute of his hands clutching futilely at her waist, Ginny took one of them and pushed it under her shirt, just a little, enough that his fingertips could almost brush the underside of her breast.

And nothing happened.

She pulled out of the kiss and smiled at him. "God, you're…" What? She didn't know what. Perhaps a change of tactics was called for. "Want to smoke some gillyweed?"

He blinked at her. "Sure."

She stepped back and dug into the pocket of her robes for the little plastic bag and stone pipe. With practiced ease, she packed the pipe and handed it to Harry.

"Incendio," she said, tapping the bowl with her wand. She watched Harry inhale, his face screwed up in concentration.

He coughed and handed the pipe to her. "Shit," he wheezed, wincing.

She smiled and took the pipe. In addition to producing a delightfully giggly buzz, Gillyweed had an unusually strong aphrodisiac effect when smoked. Ginny reckoned they needed it tonight. She inhaled deeply, holding the sweet smoke in her lungs as long as she could bear.

Harry took the pipe back from her and smoked it again, eyes closed. Ginny pressed her open mouth against his in time to catch the smoke he exhaled. Her tongue flicked against his, just teasing.

He didn't flick back. Ginny took the pipe from him and banished its contents before tucking it into a pocket of her robe.

She pressed her forehead into his neck, suppressing a groan. She didn't mind being the aggressor, but she would like some enthusiasm -- or cooperation, at the very least -- from him once in a while.

Time for drastic action. She pressed her palm against his stomach and kissed him, letting it move in little circles. And then slowly, ever so slowly, she let it drift lower, to the waist of his trousers, over a protruding hipbone, and then -- finally -- she let her fingertips trail lightly across his groin.

The first time she'd done that to Dean, he'd grabbed her hand and pressed it against his prick, looking for all the world like Christmas had come early.

Harry sucked in a breath and pulled away.

Ginny blushed then, and couldn't bring herself to meet his shocked gaze. She didn't know what to say, because everything that came to her mind was, "What's wrong with you? Other boys have begged for the touch of my hand, of my mouth, for the privilege of fucking me! Why not you?"

But she didn't say any of these things. Harry was special. Harry wasn't like other boys. It must be her, she thought, already berating herself for being so forward. She'd just have to resign herself to wanking for the next week, because she couldn't imagine Harry daring to slide his hand under her knickers -- much less anything else.

The gillyweed buzz was making her fingertips tingle now. She closed her eyes, thinking about the way his dark head would look between her freckled thighs as he ate her pussy, licking and sucking and--

"Malfoy," Harry hissed.

Dazed, Ginny turned her head to see the retreating form of Draco Malfoy. From what she could tell, he'd barely glanced in their direction.

"What about him?" she whispered, already annoyed by the distraction.

"He's up to something," Harry said, eyes still fixed on the spot where Malfoy had disappeared.

"Isn't he always?" she breathed.

Harry spent far too much time worrying about saving the world -- that must be the problem. He just needed to relax, to let someone take care of him for once. The fact that he could be concerned with Draco Malfoy at a moment like this was very telling, indeed. She pressed her hand against his prick again, determined to do something more than kiss tonight, determined to do something for Harry.

"Ah," he said, eyes closed. Then he pushed his hips back, trying to dislodge her hand. "Ginny…"

"What?" she asked, nearing exasperation. "I want to touch you. Don't you want to touch me?"

He didn't look at her. "Ron would kill me," he said.

Ginny snorted. "Do you think Ron doesn't know what we're doing? Jesus, Harry."

Harry leaned against the wall and sighed. "I know. I'm sorry. I like you so much, Ginny. I just…"

"Don't want to fuck me?" she finished.

Harry's eyes met hers then, wide and green. "I… What?"

"You heard me," she whispered, pressing her hand against his prick again. It twitched under her fingers. "I want you to fuck me, Harry. I want to feel this inside me."

"Oh, god," Harry replied. And he was hard.

Ginny looked up at him through the curtain of red hair that had fallen over her face. "Or I could just suck it," she said, letting her voice go low, "right here in the corridor. You wouldn't have to do anything but enjoy it." He was blushing now, and he wouldn't look her in the eye. She stroked his cock through the fabric, trying to map out the size and shape of it. "Please."

Harry hesitated a moment more, and then stepped away from her, capturing her hands in his own. "I… I can't."

Ginny pulled out of his grip and leaned back against the wall, already knowing what she would hear. He didn't want to do it, for a variety of reasons. He always had an excuse, one she'd not yet heard. She kept thinking he'd run out of them.

She cast a sidelong glance at him. He looked frustrated, unhappy, confused… Like someone who didn't know quite what he wanted. Maybe…

She shook the thought away and sighed. She liked Harry, more than she'd ever liked a boy. She'd fantasized about him from the moment she'd discovered how to make herself come with fingers and spit, under the covers at night. She wanted to do everything with him -- fuck him, suck him, take it up the arse -- anything he wanted, everything she wanted.

What was she doing wrong?

"I'm sorry," he said at last. "I've had… a lot on my mind."

"I know," she said, forcing a sympathetic smile. "I understand."

But she didn't. Dean would never have walked away. He'd have fucked her against the wall, then would've gone down on her until she was satisfied. He loved eating pussy, and had said so often. Hell, Neville had even come in his pants that time she'd let him touch her bare breast. She hadn't done so much as brush against him. Boys were easy like that -- or so she'd thought.

"I should go," Harry said, leaning forward to plant a chaste kiss on her lips.

"Good night," she said as he turned away.

She waited ten minutes before returning to the entrance to the Gryffindor common room, already thinking about which masturbation spell she should use tonight. She would be patient. He'd come around.

Of course he would.

FIN
Chapter End Notes:
That was some of the gayest het I've ever read. -- blackpsychi